Clash
by KinglyShadows
Summary: Lordran: a place where hero's from all ages fade in and out of time. Sometimes, not all their stories have happy endings.


**What's this? Another one-shot, that's what. I'm not entirely sure if you beautiful people in this archive are reading these pitifully short vignettes or not (Hell, I'm not even sure if the people that have subscribed to me are even reading them), but I'mma keep posting! This is a little bit AU from my previous one, with Scarlet not being Undead and all. Ah, but I'm sure you all don't care. ^^;**

**Lawyer! Disclaimer!**

**L: ArchShadow does not own Dark Souls. If he did, the Bed of Chaos would burn in it's own fire.**

_Chapter Song: Thistle & Weeds by Mumford & Sons_

**~X~**

Clash

Blades danced as the knight and ex-thief tangoed. For every opening he created, the knight would surprise him with an astonishing amount of dexterous ability as she rolled past his arcing scythe. For every overhand swing she would send his way, the ex-thief infuriatingly matched the power of her zweihander as he blocked the blows with the perfect timing. His hood had fallen back, while her helm had been discarded long ago. He wanted to talk, she wanted his blood. Sullen silver eyes met furious ruby as their steel clashed once again.

The ruins that served as their ballroom were livelier than usual. The crestfallen warrior, who had met both warriors at the beginning of their adventure, was watching the spectacle, his mouth ajar at their violent dance of metal. The tainted golden knight below them simply scoffed at their pettiness, or what he assumed was pettiness anyway. The ever present cleric simply watched from afar, wondering how long it would take until first blood. And above it all sat the source of the conflict, smirking as he took a bite of his apple.

Of course, the ex-thief knew what was going on. He threw a glare up toward the grinning wanderer, his silver eyes burning with anger. But it was sparing. He couldn't take his eyes off the wrathful knight in front of him, lest he lose more than just his hood. He ducked as an over arcing swing traced a path where his neck had previously been. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't get through to her. Not for lack of trying, of course.

Her silver armor rattled as she brought the huge sword down in another overhead swing, a cry of desperate anguish escaping her throat as she did so. She didn't want to believe what she had seen just moments before. But no matter how hard she tried to unsee it, the matter remained ever present in her mind. The man in front of her, the man she had worked together with on several occasions in her journey through the Undead land she now resided, was one of the very things she had sworn to kill. Her addled brain kept chastising her sluggish movements; she knew full well that she wasn't fighting in full capacity.

Scythe and zweihander once again clashed, divine sparks lighting up their field as their dance of death reached its final stages. As if to signify the clearing of a stage, both weapons soon found themselves plunged into the damp earth, their owners once again squaring each other off. The knight then spoke.

Her hardened features masked her inner turmoil. "You know what I have to do, Lawrence." She brought her right hand down to the handle of her estoc on her hip, her stance never wavering.

The silver haired thief squared his own stance, his right hand making its way down to the handle of the katana on his hip. His features remained complacent, but his eyes spoke volumes over his muted tongue. _"But why?"_

Scarlet shook her head. There was no way she could look him in those eyes. Those eyes, which had once been so adoring in her presence, were now filled with sorrow and hurt and it was her fault. She knew it was, yet no matter how much she wanted to drop her accursed weapon and run into his once open arms, she couldn't. She had already convinced herself that even if she were to stop now, he would hate her for forcing him into such a situation. She already hated herself for it.

Lawrence had a different plan. He drew his katana as she drew her estoc, lighting arcing and flames licked. They circled each other, their crescendo imminent. Scarlet lunged forward, a feeling of horror exploding within in her as her opponent sheathed his blade. She felt herself be drawn into his arms as her burning blade sank deep into his abdomen, the cold horror from seconds ago overtaking her as she let go of the embedded blade, her hands shaking all the while.

"L-lawrence…I…" She gripped his black garb, burying her face deeper within it as she fought back tears. "I'm…" She sniffled, unable to hold back her shame any longer. "I-I'm-!"

The ex-thief simply played with her red locks, the pain from the burning sword already numbed from his quickening expiration. He knew that when he hid the fact that he was undead from her, something like this would happen. Yet, the most heartbreaking thing for him was that he couldn't say anything to comfort her. He knew he wouldn't be coming back from this, yet he was at peace. He lightly pushed her back, becoming quite aware of his dissipating body as his strength weakened. He lightly wiped the tears from her face, his eyes seeming to say, _"Silly girl, you're too big to cry."_

The once proud knight couldn't take it. She was about to burst out into tears again, but the most unexpected intrusion interrupted her. The feeling of dry lips met hers, making her eyes go wide. What surprised her even more, however, was that she responded to the kiss with gusto. She pushed herself farther up against him (being mindful of the blade) as she brought her arms around his neck.

The man from the top of the ruin watched the two, a disgusted look on his face. "How anti-climactic," he drawled, "They didn't even clash with their elemental weapons." He gave the still kissing couple one last look of disdain before turning around, his long brown coat swishing at the sudden movement. Talisman in hand, he activated the faith required, warping him out of the area.

As Scarlet pulled away, she couldn't help but mutter, "I'm sorry." A look that was akin to a kicked puppy coming with it as the last of Lawrence's body disappeared, a small golden orb being left in its place. She stood up, gripping her estoc as she made confident strides toward the opening that would take her to the ashen fortress; The Kiln. The toothy serpent looked at her questioningly as she approached, but if he was going to say anything, she wouldn't have heard it. With one small step, she plunged into the blackness, her resolve set to end the hell they were living.


End file.
